But an thou need’st nor food, nor element,
Then will I sit and comfort thy sweet tears;
And as the smaller stream doth ofttimes mingle,
And add its nothingness to the vasty sea,
So on thy streaming cheek will I let fall
One pitying tear, one tender drop of sorrow.
Fla. Oh! gentle, excellent, most loving brother,
It is my aching heart which thus o’ercomes me.
Wretch that I am! what hath my mother done,
That, lacking pity, I could leave her thus: